


The Cool Kids

by elle_stone



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Gina + Bellamy friendship, Raven + Wells are BFFs in the background, all the delinquents are friends, briefly mentioned Clarke/Octavia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6762106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_stone/pseuds/elle_stone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cool kids are all in law school, med school, master’s programs, doctoral programs; they talk about science and math and history and politics like it’s the weather, slide from stupid puns to metaphorical debates to gossip like it’s nothing, and Gina—she went to school for a while. Stumbled through a degree. But now she’s mostly just a bartender, sometimes a doer of odd jobs. It’s not a bad life. She’s happy with it, with herself, but she’ll never be one of them. She’d never be able to keep up.</p>
<p>“That,” Bellamy says, when she tries to explain why she doesn’t want to just come over and say hi, “is stupid.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cool Kids

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LayALioness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LayALioness/gifts).



> Written months ago for the [Rare Pairs Exchange](http://100rpexchange.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, belatedly posting here.

If this were high school, they would be the cool kids, the ones everyone else wants to be like or at least be near. They usually sit in the corner booth. Some nights, though, the group gets so large that they spill over into the next, or pull two tables together in the middle of the room, and once over a dozen of them took over two pool tables in the back for about four hours, setting new records for both the longest and the most inept pool games ever played in Arkadia. Gina knows most of them by sight, and a few, the ones who come most often, the ones who form what she thinks of as the center of the group, by name.

There’s Bellamy, who tries (not very hard) _not_ to be the dad of the group, but still is; he’s more likely to be smiling fondly than laughing raucously, and in the winter he carries ratty paperbacks in the pocket of his jacket, as if he needed to be ready to drop everything and read at a moment’s notice. His sister, Octavia, rides a motorcycle and wears a leather jacket and the most amazing pair of boots Gina’s ever seen. She usually shows up with her girlfriend, Clarke, a med student and artist who dresses sometimes in scrubs, sometimes in clothes she probably made herself, she’s just that talented, and Gina wouldn’t put anything past her. Then there’s Wells, who sometimes brings his law books with him, then just uses them to rest his elbow on; who’s always the one to tell the group to quiet down if he thinks they’re on the verge of being kicked out; who is, Gina’s pretty sure, the only one of the whole bunch who has any idea how to dance.

And finally, there’s Raven. Beautiful, confident genius Raven. She always smiles this cute, bright smile when she comes to order more drinks, and she’s unfailingly friendly, too, quick with a compliment or a question about Gina’s day. Sometimes, she shows up with a random fact about robots, or NASA, or artificial intelligence, or other topics that Gina never thinks about, but that she’d like to think about, whole worlds of which she’s barely aware.

Worlds beyond her, probably. The cool kids are all in law school, med school, master’s programs, doctoral programs; they talk about science and math and history and politics like it’s the weather, slide from stupid puns to metaphorical debates to gossip like it’s nothing, and Gina—she went to school for a while. Stumbled through a degree. But now she’s mostly just a bartender, sometimes a doer of odd jobs. It’s not a bad life. She’s happy with it, with herself, but she’ll never be one of them. She’d never be able to keep up.

“That,” Bellamy says, when she tries to explain why she doesn’t want to _just come over and say hi_ , “is stupid.” Bellamy is the closest Gina can really claim to an ‘in.’ They went on one date together, six months ago: an extraordinarily B+ date, lacking in any sort of spark or fire, but not unpleasant for that. Not really like trying to date a sibling, but something like trying to date a good friend. Since then, they haven’t exactly started hanging out, but sometimes he strikes up a conversation when he stops by the bar.

“There’s nothing intimidating about that group of,” he struggles for the right word, waves his hand in the air, and then settles, somewhat reluctantly on, “nerds. They’re nerds, Gina. Misfits. How do you think we all ended up together?”

She smiles, and tries to pretend his argument isn’t getting through. “But I bet if anyone else called them misfits, you’d fight him.”

“Damn right I would.” He keeps a straight face, then slaps the top of the bar abruptly, as if he’s come to a great conclusion. “At least reach out to Raven. You could even…ask her out?” It’s pretty obvious that Bellamy doesn’t give anything approximating dating advice very often, because his confident voice turns uncertain very quickly, and the question ends on an awkwardly high note.

“And what makes you think I want to ask her out?” She leans forward, both her hands flat on the bar and all her weight on them, and tries to make her expression look quizzical and not guilty, like she’s been caught.

“That you obviously do.” He shrugs, still awkward. “I’m not making you a list. I just know.”

Gina opens her mouth like there’s some argument to this, some response, but there’s not; she _just knows_ , in the same way Bellamy just knows, that if she pressed, he really would break out a list and she’s not up for being confronted with all the evidence of her obvious, humongous crush. “Okay,” she concedes and rocks back on her heels again. “But—I can’t ask her out. Isn’t she dating Wells?”

Bellamy makes an _and where did that come from?_ , funny looking confused face, glances over his shoulder at the corner booth, where a half dozen of his misfit friends are arguing over a drawing one of them has made on a napkin, and then back to Gina again. This time his face looks even more confused. “Raven and Wells? Where did you get that idea?”

“She has his arm around him right now, for one,” Gina points out.

“Because they’re friends.” He glances back again, just in time to see Raven lean in and kiss Wells’s cheek. “Really good friends.”

“Mmhmmm,” she hums, because she’s pretty sure she’s made her point. Or it’s been made for her. “Right. Really good friends who are way more suited to each other than she and I are.”

“How would you know—?”

“They’re both smart, and serious, and talented….”

“Gina, Raven once almost blew off her own fingers in an experiment gone wrong, and Wells just gave Clarke his tie to wear as a hat. They’re not that serious and they’re not smart all the time, either. They’re not heroes."

It’s a hard point to concede, but she does, with a sigh. “Right, just normal people.”

“Well—” From behind him, there’s the sound of a chair almost toppling, followed by a brief outburst of applause. “Not _that_ normal.”

*

Arkadia empties slowly, until by closing time it’s only Raven, Wells, and Gina left. They help her clean up and lock up, Wells apologizing for how late they always stay, and by the time they split up in the parking lot, she feels like maybe some step has been taken, somehow.

She’s grinning to herself as she slides behind the wheel of her clunky old car.

The grin disappears, though, when she turns the key and nothing happens, just a raspy gunning noise and then silence. She tries again. Same. Banging the steering wheel and swearing doesn’t help, she’s still pretty much screwed, but getting out and slamming the door behind her does make her feel just the tiniest bit better. A bit more creative swearing, some kicking follows—this can’t be happening _again_ , what a piece of _junk_ —and in all of her self-made commotion she doesn’t notice someone approaching her. She jumps when she feels a soft tap on her shoulder.

“Hey,” Raven says. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Gina deflates immediately, slumps and puts her hand over her eyes in embarrassment. She really, really assumed they’d already left. “Sorry—I didn’t realize anyone was still around to see me throwing a tantrum like a five year old.”

“Wells left, and I was just about to—good thing I didn’t though, right?” Gina forces herself to be an adult and actually look at Raven’s face. Even in the dim light, she can make out a warm, gentle expression there. Raven pats the windshield and asks, “So it won’t start?”

“Not even a little. If I had the money for a new one—” She leans against the side of the car, exhausted, empty, and stars up at the streetlamp overhead and the clear black sky above. “I’ve probably paid for the equivalent of a new car in repairs already anyway.”

There’s a clicking sound, and she glances over to a round circle of light. Raven, of course, keeps a tiny flashlight on her person. “These repairs will be free,” she promises. “Pop the hood for me?”

“You really don’t have to,” Gina tries to insist, but Raven’s even more insistent that she does, and within two minutes, she’s leaning over the engine, using the streetlight and her flashlight to look for Gina has absolutely no idea what. She’s tempted to look over Raven’s shoulder, but she doesn’t want to hover, and anyway it’s all just random coils and rectangles and shadows in there as far as she can tell. So she paces just off to the side, only glancing over every now and then to watch the way Raven tilts her head, or purses her lips, the way her ponytail swings from side to side or her arm stretches or her fingers flex as she examines one inscrutable component after another.

Finally, she straightens again, flicks off the light and puts back in her jacket pocket, and dusts off her hands.

“So?” Gina asks. “Is it terminal?”

“It’s never terminal if I’m the one working on it,” Raven answers, confident. Then, after a beat’s pause, she admits, “But there’s not a lot I can do tonight. How about I give you a ride home instead?”

Gina almost tries to tell her, again, _you don’t have to_ , but in truth she doesn’t have a lot of other options. So she nods. “I’d really appreciate that, actually. Thank you.”

Raven slams the hood down while Gina grabs her bag and locks up the piece of junk, then follows Raven across the lot. She drives a Jeep, clean on the outside but so full, on the inside, with a disorganized jumble of textbooks, tools, papers, projects, and what looks like a scrap metal sculpture, that Gina barely finds space for herself in the front seat.

“Sorry about that,” Raven says, as she shoves some rags and an old paperback out of the way. “It’s always a mess in here.”

“It’s fine—I still really appreciate the ride. And your help with my car. Is that something they teach you in school, how to put engines back together?”

“I don’t think your engine needs to be _put back together_ , it’s not _that_ bad,” Raven answers, and Gina can hear the smile in her voice. For a moment, when she turns to look behind her as she backs out of her spot, the light from a streetlight hits her face just so and she looks, Gina thinks, so particularly, so uniquely beautiful, that Gina’s heart picks up its pace. “And no. I learned that myself, basically growing up with cars. They’re my first love, I guess.”

Gina sits back, forces herself to look straight out the windshield as they turn out onto the road. “I like that,” she says finally. “The only sort of first love that can’t leave you.” Then, so that Raven doesn’t ask, and because it wasn’t the sort of thing she really meant to say, she adds, “Good thing you found me, or I’d still be out there swearing. Or crying, by now. You’re my hero.” _Bellamy be damned_.

“‘Hero’ might be a little strong, but I’ll take it,” Raven answers. “Hey, I have a story about a real hero. My adviser, Sinclair—he’s saved my ass like four times. But I’ve gotten him out of bad spots too—this one time in particular was pretty epic.”

The lights are sliding over her face again, a pattern of light and darkness that hits, sometimes, her nose, sometimes her cheeks or her lips, sometimes her hands. Gina doesn’t care in the slightest that she’s staring now and it’s obvious, or that she’s smiling and it’s a smitten smile, or that her voice sounds fond when she answers, “I don’t live that far from here, so you should start with the most epic story first, in case we run out of time.”

As it happens, they do not run out of time, because when Raven pulls up outside of Gina’s apartment, she stops the Jeep and turns off the engine and turns to face Gina and they just keep talking. A few times, Gina considers pausing long enough to ask her in, but the flow of conversation doesn’t leave room even for that. And soon enough she forgets altogether where they are.

Only slowly do the pauses start to grow and a true silence seep in. She’s afraid to look at her watch. She’s afraid to say goodnight and open the door and step out, to walk away from this, whatever this is or could yet be.

“Look, I—” _really like you_ “—want to thank you again,” is all she can come up with. “For helping me out—”

“Stop.” Raven punctuates the word with a touch to Gina’s wrist, the first time they have ever touched, and it makes Gina look up with sudden sharpness, makes her freeze. Perhaps the moment is insignificant. But Raven doesn’t take her hand away. “I didn’t do very much. Just consider it a thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

“What do you mean?”

“For my friends—all the times we’ve gotten loud and obnoxious and you don’t kick us out. I know you’ve given us a lot of breaks. And… for Bellamy. I bet he didn’t tell you, but he was going through a rough time around when you two went out. I know it really helped him to have someone to talk to who wasn’t wrapped up in all of that, and you’re a good friend to him. If you’re a good friend to one of us, you’re a good friend to all of us.”

It’s not quite _you are one of us_ , but it’s close, and a warm feeling wells up in her. She hardly knows what to say. So she moves her hand until she’s holding Raven’s hand, and gives it a squeeze. “That’s what I want. To be a good friend.” The words feel somewhat inadequate, but they’re sincere, and she’s sure Raven knows it and understands.

“You want to hang out again?” Raven asks. Her voice is a little louder now, so the quiet moment of a moment before is broken. But they’re still holding hands, and Raven’s thumb is moving back and forth in the space between Gina’s forefinger and thumb. “Maybe actually leave my truck next time?”

“Yeah—yes,” she smiles, “yes to all of that.”

Raven hands over her phone, and they exchange numbers, and then there’s nothing to do but to part, unfortunately, at last. Gina opens the passenger side door. Raven’s hand circles around her wrist, pulls her back, and closer, for an unexpected and surprisingly gentle kiss on the cheek.

“You’re going to make me blush,” Gina murmurs, and Raven leans in until their noses touch.

“That’s what I’m counting on.”


End file.
